


Tea for One

by Kaesa



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Domesticity, Established Relationship, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Canon, Smut, Tea, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-29 16:57:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20085631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaesa/pseuds/Kaesa
Summary: Crowley doesn't have a lot of complaints about sex with Aziraphale, but he can't help being miffed when Aziraphale stops just to have another sip of tea.





	Tea for One

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is based on [this amazing advice column letter](https://imgur.com/nFaJkrp) about someone getting frustrated with their wife pausing sex to finish her tea. I have no idea what the answer was and I don't care.

Crowley watched Aziraphale sip the tea, trying very hard not to glower. It was ridiculous to be envious of a mug, and also really weird, especially since after six _thousand _fucking years he and Aziraphale had finally come to a much more satisfying Arrangement than their previous one. _This _Arrangement wasn't about miracles and temptation -- or rather, it was, but the temptation was limited largely to Crowley coming up with as many ways as he could to get Aziraphale into bed with him (or the broom closet at the back of the bookshop, or in the shower at his flat, or in the back of the Bentley, or...), and the miracle was that Aziraphale was usually thrilled to take him up on the offer.

This domesticity thing was new, though. He hadn't _really _moved in with Aziraphale, not truly, but he had barely been back to his place for about two weeks except to water and threaten the plants. At nights, he'd curl up next to Aziraphale and sleep while Aziraphale worked through his to-be-read pile, which apparently consisted of every single book ever published and some that weren't.

It was all absolutely wonderful, in ways that Crowley had never expected anything to be. He'd taken to bringing Aziraphale tea every morning, because Aziraphale liked tea and because Crowley liked seeing Aziraphale beam at him when he brought it.

The little winged mug he was currently being jealous of had actually been his own gift to Aziraphale, the result of a somewhat embarrassing late-night Amazon binge after Crowley had got back to his flat after dinner and a concert with Aziraphale, and found himself looking for something to convey _I am in complete fucking love with you, you beautiful idiot, and have been since time began, but also I don't want to come on too strong and here's something small and useful._

Aziraphale finished his sip of tea, and placed the mug down on the bedside table carefully. It was still mostly full, Crowley noticed with frustration. "Thank you, my dear," said Aziraphale, leaning over and kissing him on the cheek, and he couldn't help but smile a bit after that. "Oh! You're using your new mug!"

"Ah. Yeah," said Crowley. He glanced down at his own mug, which he had almost forgot about, as engaged as he was with watching Aziraphale. He was pretty sure Aziraphale had had it custom made, because Crowley, though he wouldn't have admitted it except under duress, was familiar with most of the snake-shaped merchandise available for purchase on the internet, and he'd never seen a mug with a jet-black snake for a handle, but Aziraphale had given it to him earlier this week and he'd sort of melted.

The tea was still steaming, and the heat of it felt good on a chilly morning like this, but he really wanted to get to the next part of their little morning routine, and he wanted it to go _without any interruptions._ So he chugged the steaming tea in two gulps, made an exaggerated "Aah!" sound, leaned over Aziraphale to put the mug on the bedside table, and --

Aziraphale took his face in both hands and kissed him slowly. Crowley made an undignified noise of very pleasant surprise and leaned into the kiss, gripping Aziraphale's shoulders. He would have been quite content to let things develop this way, only --

Aziraphale pulled away. "If you don't mind, I'm going to have another sip of tea. Before it gets cold."

Crowley sighed. "Right. Yeah. Tea. You should finish that." He watched irritably as Aziraphale took another sip of his tea.

This was the problem. _This._ Crowley had thought the tea would be a nice gesture, so he'd started doing it, and then it had turned into tea and snogging, and then it had become tea and a morning quickie. But for the past few mornings Aziraphale had _paused sex to finish up his tea,_ and it was, frankly, infuriating and insulting to Crowley's stellar blowjob skills to have Aziraphale say "Just a moment, my dear," and gently tug Crowley away from his dick just to finish some tea that he could probably just miracle hot again anyway. So this time he was determined not to get lured into sex before Aziraphale had finished the blessed tea.

Aziraphale put the mug down again, and leaned against Crowley, sliding an arm around his waist. "Mmm. Isn't this cozy? What a lovely morning. You _do _make very good tea."

Crowley grinned despite himself. It really was difficult to stay grumpy when you had an angel leaning his head on your shoulder, praising your ability to pour boiling water over a teabag like it was a skill. He draped an arm over Aziraphale's shoulder. "Well, I should hope after all this time I'd know what you like," he said.

"Oh, I like to think I can still surprise you," said Aziraphale, withdrawing his arm and putting his hand on Crowley's knee instead. "You know, you can -- you can move some of your plants here, if you like. I can make more space."

Crowley _wanted _to relax into this new form of their relationship like an old easy chair, and he knew he'd practically moved into the bookshop, but... there was still part of him that didn't quite trust this would last. Aziraphale had pushed him away so, so many times over the centuries, and Crowley wasn't entirely reassured on that point just because they happened to be fucking now. And what if Heaven and Hell came after them again? Or found a way to end the world without a willing Antichrist? Something could always go wrong. "Oh, I -- wouldn't want to be an imposition. Besides, I know you'll spoil them rotten," he told Aziraphale. He tried to ignore the small ripple of hurt that passed over Aziraphale's face. "Oh come on, angel, you don't really want them all cluttering up the place. You've got enough stuff as it is."

"Yes, but I want _you,_" said Aziraphale.

"And you've got me. You just can't have my plants," said Crowley, with a smirk.

"Hmph," said Aziraphale. He took another gulp of tea, and as he did his hand moved up Crowley's thigh. "Well, I suppose I shall have to take what I can get," he said, putting the mug down again.

"You finished with that tea yet?" Crowley asked. His traitorous corporeal form, already very interested in the proximity and warmth and smell of Aziraphale, was getting significantly more invested in the placement of Aziraphale's hand on his thigh, and was hoping for it to make a lateral move to the region of Crowley's dick very soon, but the rest of Crowley really didn't want him to pause mid-handjob to finish his fucking tea.

"Nothing wrong with savoring a warm drink on a chilly autumn morning," said Aziraphale, cheerfully. His hand brushed against Crowley's erection. Crowley swallowed.

He could push Aziraphale away and tell him to drink his tea, but that might just result in Aziraphale sulking and choosing the tea over him, so Crowley elected to say "Well, I wish you'd --"

Then he made a very undignified noise when Aziraphale pushed his hand down the elastic of his boxers and began to stroke his cock.

"Yes, my dear?" Aziraphale asked. "What do you wish I'd do? Go on."

The fucking _nerve _of him. "Fuck," said Crowley, hanging onto Aziraphale with one hand and the bed with the other.

"Oh, I'll get to that in a bit," said Aziraphale. His strokes got a little faster, and he caught Crowley's moan with a kiss. Crowley pulled him closer, kissing him roughly, while his other hand groped for Aziraphale's dick, which was visibly tenting his tartan pajamas by now.

But Aziraphale pulled away from the kiss, and moved Crowley's hand away. His own hand on Crowley's dick never stopped, not even as he reached for the mug of tea and --

_Fuck _if Crowley was standing for this. (Well, at least one part of him was standing very rigid indeed.) He grabbed the white-winged mug from Aziraphale's hand, chugged the tea, and flung the mug at the floor. (Miraculously, it landed upright and unharmed. Crowley wasn't sure if he'd done that or Aziraphale had.) "There. You're done with your tea, angel. Let's get on with it." He pushed Aziraphale down onto the bed and straddled him.

The angel, for his part, looked incredibly pleased with himself, and pulled Crowley down by his shirtfront to kiss him roughly. "You __are__ eager this morning, aren't you?" he whispered against Crowley's neck, and shuddered a little as Crowley bucked against him.

"Angel, you are such a _fucking _tease," said Crowley, pulling his shirt off over his head. With some regret, he had to abandon the delicious friction of his cock rubbing against Aziraphale's to get his boxers off. As soon as he was free of them, he realized his mistake, because Aziraphale had already divested himself of his pajamas, probably miraculously, and Crowley found himself being shoved down against the bed, Aziraphale's knee parting his legs.

"Mmm. The wily tempter tempted?" Aziraphale asked, sitting back up. He traced a lazy line on Crowley's chest that drifted down to his belly, and then further, but then he took his hand away before he could get anywhere really interesting. "Well, I suppose I've had enough practice, standing in for you every now and again."

"Didn't need it," said Crowley, feeling too honest, too vulnerable, staring up at Aziraphale, still awestruck that _he _got to have Aziraphale, that Aziraphale wanted _him._ "I was always tempted by you, _always._ Never could resist."

"You know, I thought you were doing it on purpose for the longest time," said Aziraphale.

"Doing... what?" Crowley asked.

"Being -- well," said Aziraphale, looking Crowley up and down. "_Delectable._"

"Maybe you just have a fetish for slightly rubbish demons," said Crowley, giving him a lopsided grin. "So are you going to fuck me, or...?"

"Patience is a virtue, dear."

"One I don't happen to have," said Crowley. "And neither do you, I've seen you miracle up faster service at restaur-- nhh." Aziraphale had started to jerk him off again with one hand.

"I do regret that we took so long to get around to this, it's really a very effective way to get you to change the subject," said Aziraphale. "You may wish to brace yourself, my dear," he said then, giving Crowley barely any notice as he pressed his fingers against Crowley's arse and used a miracle to open him up all at once, a feeling that was almost _too _good.

He made a strangled sort of noise. "Fuck you, you fucking --" Aziraphale slid his fingers inside him. "_Aah!_"

"Oh, would you like me to stop?" Aziraphale asked, smirking down at him.

"You'd better not, you -- bastard -- angel -- _oh._" Aziraphale's mouth slid over his cock. Crowley had not yet asked who the angel had blown before him -- there had clearly been _somebody,_ maybe a lot of somebodies -- but he was grateful to whoever it was who had taught Aziraphale to suck a cock like this.

Aziraphale had his eyes closed, looked positively delighted, and somehow innocent, like he was sampling a rare delicacy and not some demon's dick. He made a completely obscene noise around Crowley's cock, and _oh,_ he was going to remember this next time Aziraphale made that same noise about tiramisu. "Angel, _pleasse,_" Crowley said. He was going to come in Aziraphale's mouth if this kept going, and he so desperately wanted Aziraphale to just fuck him into the mattress.

"Mmm?" said Aziraphale.

"Insside me, _pleasse,_" said Crowley. "Or I'm going to fucking -- _exssplode._"

Aziraphale slid his mouth off Crowley's cock with a slurp. "You'll do that anyway, my dear," he said, as he moved into position. "Are you ready?"

"You know bloody well I am," said Crowley.

Aziraphale gave him an indulgent smile. "Next time, I think we're going to have to put that filthy mouth of yours to much better use." Then he slid into Crowley, gently, and built up a rhythm that was far too slow.

"_Aziraphale,_" Crowley whined. "Don't teasse, I want _more._"

"Ah, well, if you insist," said Aziraphale, and the thrusts came harder and faster and _god _it felt good.

"Yess, don't sstop --" Aziraphale changed the angle of his hips slightly. "-- oh _fuck _yess."

Crowley began to reach down to take his cock in hand, but Aziraphale pinned his wrist and he was left thrusting up against Aziraphale's belly. He knew if he tried with his other hand he'd be pinned down completely, but he decided that might actually be too much, and he wanted to last a little longer. Aziraphale kissed his neck and whispered roughly in his ear, "You should see yourself now. Completely, _utterly _debauched."

"All -- all becausse of you," gasped Crowley.

"Beautiful," breathed Aziraphale, kissing his jaw.

Everything felt so painfully good, Crowley wasn't sure he was even going to survive this, but it would be __worth__ it. "Fuck, Aziraphale, mnh, you're such a -- _oh _\--" And then the world narrowed down to wordless pleasure, and Crowley was coming.

Aziraphale didn't last much longer himself; soon enough he was gasping "Oh dear _God,_" and emptying himself into Crowley, and the two of them collapsed onto the bed next to each other.

They lay there in sticky bliss for a moment, and then Crowley took Aziraphale's face in his hands and kissed him, softly, slowly, in what would probably be a moderately uncomfortable position had he not been made incredibly comfortable by dint of being post-coital. "Love you," he murmured. Aziraphale beamed at him, then kissed him again.

They stayed like that for a delicious moment, and then reality started to come back to Crowley, and he pulled away. "D'you know what? This is really uncomfortable, I'm gonna do something to my neck if I don't --" He sat up, miracled them both clean, and moved himself so that his head was on an actual pillow. "Much better. C'mere, angel." Crowley noticed that, somehow, for some reason, Aziraphale looked worried. "What's wrong?" he asked.

Aziraphale crawled up the bed to sit next to Crowley, and looked down at him. "My dear, you do know that I love you, yes?"

"Yeah?" Crowley said. They had been over that a few times, actually. More than a few.

"More than anything." Something about the expression on his face was a little heartbreaking, and Crowley couldn't look at him.

"Dunno if I'm convinced," he said, hoping to make Aziraphale laugh instead of whatever was happening to him now. "You should keep telling me. Mm. Tell me how gorgeous I am too. And clever."

"_Crowley,_ I'm being serious," said Aziraphale. "I _love _you. I love you more than -- more than seared otoro and that copy of the Vinegar Bible I just got in and -- and every single play I've ever seen combined, and _God,_ and --"

"Angel," said Crowley, frowning up at him, "where is this going?"

"Stay with me? Bring your plants? I can -- I can move some things around, make some space... if you'd like to redecorate, we can do that. If there's something I'm doing wrong..."

"I don't think you _can _do the wrong thing," said Crowley, with a sly smile, one Aziraphale mirrored almost immediately. "At least, not where I'm concerned."

Aziraphale's smile faltered. "My dearest, you're very sweet to say so, but we both know it's not true. I've been -- I've been...."

"Hesitant?" Crowley supplied. "That's all right."

Aziraphale sighed. 

"Angel, look," said Crowley, feeling strangely guilty. "I just -- I want to give you some time. So you don't have to actually kick me out if you decide you'd rather not --"

"I _won't _decide anything different, Crowley, I've finally made my decision, I'm so sorry it's taken so long for me to --"

Crowley sat up then, and pulled Aziraphale into another languid kiss. When they broke apart, he said, "Listen, I know you love me, I don't doubt you. I just need this for -- for _me,_ all right? I just -- I worry."

"Well. I suppose that's only fair," said Aziraphale. "When you stop worrying, let me know. But is there anything else that you..." He trailed off.

Crowley was about to say no, of course not, but his eye fell on the winged mug, still sitting on the floor where he'd thrown it, and felt a spike of annoyance. "Well, you keep interrupting sex for tea, which is _incredibly _annoying and I wish you would stop," he said.

Aziraphale had started to smile a bit when he'd brought up the tea, and then he laughed, and Crowley didn't see what was so funny about it. "Oh, Crowley, I'm so sorry. I was only teasing you about the tea. I won't do it again if it bothers you so much."

Crowley frowned. Really? It had been that easy? "Well. I. What do you mean, _teasing _me?" he said.

"Well." Aziraphale didn't meet his eyes. "Well, I mean it _is _good tea but when you get impatient with me it's very... flattering. And... and, to be honest, rather a turn-on."

"That so? How in Heaven did you manage to survive the last six thousand years, then?" Crowley asked.

For someone who had fucked Crowley senseless in the bathroom of a Michelin three-star restaurant less than two days ago, then gone right back to the fourth course of the tasting menu as if nothing had happened, Aziraphale looked quite ashamed of himself. "I must admit, it was something of a trial."

Crowley laughed, and kissed him on the cheek. "My lovely, bastard angel." He lay down again. "Think I'm gonna take a nap. You opening the shop today, or --"

"Absolutely not," said Aziraphale. "I've better things to do today than not sell books. I think I'll stay here and read for a bit."

"Mm. Good choice," said Crowley, moving closer to Aziraphale. He was warm, and he smelled good, and he was _Crowley's._ Crowley drifted off, perfectly content, while Aziraphale absently stroked his hair and read.

And once Aziraphale was _absolutely certain _he was fast asleep, he used a miracle to retrieve his mug, and another to refill it with perfectly hot tea, milk and sugar already stirred in. After all, Crowley had drunk almost all of Aziraphale's tea. He might've brought it on himself, but that didn't mean he didn't deserve a fresh cup.


End file.
